


If he was a Redguard

by Little_buttercup



Series: Nereval and Nerevar [35]
Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 08:03:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20991563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_buttercup/pseuds/Little_buttercup
Summary: Found on USB, here ya go.





	If he was a Redguard

Nereval sat with a cup of water between her hands, her head bowed as she struggled to read the book next to the dying candle flame. She had been gone too long, missed so much of her people’s sufferings. Her brows were drawn close together as she read an account of a man’s report of the Imperials pulling from Morrowind during the Oblivion Crisis. Her stomach churned from the information, how could she miss so much?

The Dunmer had embarked on a voyage to Akavir, intending to only stay a year before returning, but instead she had settled in a small fishing village. The people there had not cared who she was, or the things she had done, but rather if she could work, if she could fish and harvest food. She did, she led a simple life there and had lost track of her time. When she had returned to Morrowind, Vvardenfell, she had to prove to the Ashlanders who she was, as the cities were gone or deserted. There she stayed with them until traveling onto the Mainland, then into Skyrim.

From what she had heard, there was a civil war raging, and many brave men and women had fought in a war against the Altmer.

Now she was in Windhelm, preparing to travel to Solstheim. When she left it two hundred years ago, it was a tiny encampment for the Imperials.

The door was thrown open and a draft came through, extinguishing her candle. With a low grunt she closed her book and looked up to glare at the new comer, sitting back and nursing her cup as she watched his every move. He was a tall Redguard, his hair tightly braided against his skull. His eyes were bright, and he let his pack fall with a heavy thump against the wooden floor. It was then that Nereval tuned out and sighed, looking up at the worn ceiling with a bored expression. Somewhere within the inn, she could hear the bard strumming a song she didn’t recognize.

She couldn’t see Nerevar, but he was close by, perhaps listening to conversations and learning of what else they had missed.

Nereval jumped when she heard the chair across from her scrape back and the Redguard sat down, giving her a smile.

“Sorry, couldn’t help but notice you’re the only Dunmer here. Why aren’t you at that corner club?”

Nereval scowled at him, sitting up properly, “Can’t help but notice you’re the only Redguard here, why aren’t you in Hammerfell?”

“Fair play, my name is A’vor, might as well make friends as we are the two outcasts.”

She grinned a little at his reasoning, “I am Ne-” She stopped herself, quickly changing her mind at last minute, “Grace.”

“Grace? A pleasure to meet you!” A’vor raised his tankard and drunk heartily from it, then he wiped his mouth, “What brings you to cold Skyrim, Grace?”

She shrugged, tapping her fingers against the table, “I am traveling to Solstheim, to see… An old friend.”

A’vor hummed, grinning at her, “Seems we have the same destination! As the dragonborn, I have some business up there.”

Nereval raised her eyebrow, leaning forward, “Dragonborn? As in, the famed Dragonborn who has just recently fought Alduin? Aren’t you supposed to be a Nord or something?”

A’vor simply shrugged, giving her a toothy grin, “I could just be a really tanned Nord.”

“Definitely a Redguard.” She grumbled into her cup, eyeing the quickly filling tavern, “Are you sailing with us tomorrow, then?”

A’vor gave a nod, drumming his fingers against the wooden table, “I am, and I could do with some company. Someone who can teach me the ways of being Dunmer.” He turned his full attention back to her, and she quirked an eyebrow back at him.

“You mean, someone to teach you how to avoid stepping on Dunmer toes and becoming their next meal?”

He visibly paled, his knuckles tightened around the edge of the table. “I thought that was just a myth! I know you ate all sorts…”

She couldn’t hold back her snort and small giggle that followed afterward, and he groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead, “Of course. You were only joking.” 

Nereval held both her hands up, “When you get there, you’ll see what I mean. We will eat anything that’s cooked properly with decent spices. Why do you think theres little to no horses?”

A’vor sighed and rubbed at his braided beard, “Well, if you can keep me from being eaten and teach me, I’ll repay you with a proper drink and a meal once we get there. Deal?” He held out his hand, and she considered it warily.

May as well start with one place and make her way inland to the home of her people.

“Got yourself a deal.” She spat on the palm of her hand and shook with him.


End file.
